


Strange Birds

by fizumono



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Artists, Alternate Universe - College/University, Cannibalism, Dom/sub Undertones, Domestic Fluff, Light Dom/sub, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-08 23:16:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5516831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fizumono/pseuds/fizumono
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU in which Will Graham started a job as a life model for artists during his graduate school years, and met Hannibal Lecter under a very different circumstance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> for Tumblr user fluegelschatten :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little ghost, you are listening,  
> Unlike most you don’t miss a thing,  
> You see the truth,  
> I walk the halls invisibly,  
> I climb the walls, no one sees me,  
> No one but you.
> 
> You’ve always loved the strange birds  
> Now I want to fly into your world  
> I want to be heard
> 
> \- Birdy, Strange Birds

Session 1 (The best) Black coffee (ever)

 

It all started with a rather embarrassing incident.

Will Graham had been life modelling for art classes for almost a month. His flatmate Matthew Brown, whom he shared an apartment with on the more affordable side of town, introduced him to the job. 

"Come on, join me." Matthew, chewing his sandwich before he takes over Will's shift at the street corner cafe they were both working at, raised his brows questioningly. "You get paid for not doing anything, and it pays well."

"I am not as, um, physically fit as you are." Will glared at him, already taking off his bright red apron. He carefully checked if there were any oil stains on his black button-up and jeans before throwing the apron at Matthew. "And I don't want people to see it."

Matthew knew well what was the 'it' that Will was referring to.

"You've got to get over it, man." Matthew sighed. "A scar simply means you were stronger than whatever tried to hurt you."

"Since when you've transferred from nursing to psychology." Will put on his jacket, and picked up his battered leather satchel. "The answer is no, Matthew." 

"Besides, models with tattoos and piercings," Matthew pointed to his chest. "and scars, are sometimes even more popular." 

"Well, I will think about it." Will nodded unsurely as he left for his evening class, _Medicolegal Death Investigation_ , awesome.

Will was attending his final year at the graduate school in forensic science at George Washington University, if he managed to keep up his GPA, he might get a chance for the FBI Honours Internship Program, working for the crime lab and all. He developed an interest in crime analysis and violence prevention after his short-lived experience as a homicide detective.

The following Monday, however, Will had no choice but agreed to take up the life modelling job. 

In a dark alley near the cafe, he found a little (but fierce) puppy abandoned in a box. Will, being Will, just had to take the dog in, but that little thing ate way more than it looked like he could, and Will needed more cash to keep both of them alive. Matthew pulled a face disapprovingly at the white ball of fur curling on his usual spot on the sofa, but he was secretly glad that Will decided to take the first step in trying to accept himself. 

The first time Will modelled for a life drawing art class, it was a bit cold. All eyes were on him, and he was naked, yet surprisingly, being naked in front of strangers was not as uncomfortable as he expected. Will hated social situations, and he loathed eye contacts, but while standing in front of a group of art students with nothing on him, he felt oddly invisible, all gazes seemed to see pass him, through him, instead of focusing on his imperfections. 

The gazes that fell on a life model were peculiarly dispassionate, and that dispassion, that guaranteed neutral acceptance, was appealing to Will. 

"The artists don't view you sexually, they see the body as a series of lines and shadows," Matthew, sitting in just to make sure Will was alright, told Will during his first break from a ten minutes session. "a piece of _art_." 

The twice a week modelling job fit into Will's routine pretty satisfactorily. As a student strapped for cash, the allure of making money modelling for art was too much to resist, and there was another motivation underneath - he wanted to explore his empathy. His disorder only benefited him when he could focus, and standing, sitting or lying essentially motionless for extended period of time could be a chance for him to clear his mind and just _observe_ the people around him. His muscle ached terribly after some sessions, but the pain was tolerable, Will could manage. 

 

The embarrassing incident occurred about a month into Will's adventure in life modelling, on the day when a new part-time tutor took over the drawing class. 

The tutor was a middle-age man wearing a navy three-piece suit with a subtle plaid pattern with a blue paisley tie, his hair combed back neatly, and his eyes were piercing, predatory. 

The man possessed all the dominant traits that made Will go weak at the knees. Will swallowed hard. 

"Dr. Lecter." Will put on his glasses before shaking the older man's out reached hand. "My name is Will Graham."

"Please, call me Hannibal." The accented voice is deep, oddly calming to Will's agitated nerves. 

Normally, Will would avert his eyes to the rim of his glasses as a barrier, he found it harder to when his blue eyes met the brown ones of the man. There was a curious red glint where the light fell slantingly upon his pupil, he blinked in confusion.

"Not fond of eye contact, are you?" Dr. Lecter narrowed his deep-set eyes. Will pulled his robe tighter, he felt ridiculously exposed under the man's gaze, and he had not even undressed. 

Inequality between people with dominant and submissive traits was no longer tolerated in the society, unless mutually agreed between partners, no submissive was strictly required to lower their gaze from a dom, or submit to any dom for that matter, but some subs still preferred not to look directly into a dom's eyes whenever possible. 

"Eyes are distracting, you see too much, you don’t see enough. And-And it’s hard to focus when you’re thinking, um, “Oh, those whites are really white”, or, “He must have hepatitis”, or, “Oh, is that a burst “vein?” So, yeah, I try to avoid eyes whenever possible. " Will's cheeks grew warm, and he quickly looked away from the stare of the dom. 

"I see." Dr. Lecter nodded. "Shall we begin?"

The standing pose for the first twenty minutes was not demanding, Will's mind started drifting five minutes in. He slide his robe off and stood naked on the pedestal as instructed, his eyes darted from one student to another in the life drawing group, unconsciously following the movement of the new tutor. 

Dr. Lecter was pointing out the light on Will's face to one of the students when he looked up from the canvas and caught Will staring. Will felt his heart literally skipped a beat, and he could feel his cheeks colour as Dr. Lecter's thin lips tightened to a knowing, and rather mischievous, grin. It felt weirdly arousing, and Will's dick started to harden.

Half of the class gasped in surprise, and the other half frowned, everyone was torn between finishing their drawing with the original flaccid dick, or retouching that area. Nobody was in fact laughing openly at Will's erection, but Will, pretending to be calm, bit his lips uneasily, his feet shifted with the beginning of a slight shake.

"Let us take a ten minutes break." Dr. Lecter announced, he strode to the front of the class, and draped the robe over Will's shoulders swiftly. "Will, would you please come with me?"

Once the door was closed, Will immediately tensed, and started babbling his apologies. 

"Dr. Lecter, I am terribly sorry. This has never happened before, I promise, it's the first time. Holy shit," Will rubbed his face with his shaking hands. "It was unprofessional of me...I am really sorry..."

"Will...Will!" Dr. Lecter raised his voice in a slightly commanding tone, and it finally got Will's attention. "There is no reason for you to worry, this is completely normal, arousal is not uncommon during drawing classes, artists are used to these occurrences. Please let me assure you again that there is nothing to worry about. You should never feel ashamed of your feelings, Will."

Will was alarmed by the by the extra bit at the end, but the subject of the conversation was changed abruptly.

"I see that you have a scar on your shoulder," Dr. Lecter pointed out, while pouring Will a hot cup of coffee from his charcoal black coffee carafe. 

Will accepted the white cup gratefully with a nod, he closed his eyes and held the steaming cup under his nose, the coffee smelt heavenly. 

"I got stabbed when I was a cop." Will took a sip, the aroma had reminiscent of burnt caramel and unsweetened chocolate, bittersweet. 

"Scars are stories, history written on the body. Our scars remind us of our past, they do not define our future. Be proud of all the scars in your life, Will." Will felt his eyes sting. "But I must tell you, if your wound was treated by a more skilled surgeon, the resulting scar would be less obvious."

Will laughed, “You are not a doctor by any chance?”

"I was, indeed, an emergency room surgeon." Will's laugh ceased suddenly.

"Was?" Will prompted. "Why'd you stop being a surgeon?" 

"I killed someone or, more accurately, I couldn't save someone. But it felt like killing them." Hannibal explained.

"It has to happen from time to time." Will shrugged. 

"It happened one time too many." The doctor confessed that he had given considerable thought to changing his discipline for a while, he planned to switch his focus to the field of psychiatry after his current career break. "I transferred my passion for anatomy into the arts, and culinary arts." 

"You can cook?" Will raised his eyebrows, his spirit was lifted considerably by the comforting beverage, he was ready for the remaining drawing session again.

"I'm very careful about what I put into my body, which means I end up preparing most meals myself, so, yes, I am, in fact, a rather competent cook." Dr. Lecter finished his coffee, relishing the lingering bitterness on his tongue, he paused and considered what he was about to say. 

"You know what, Will? I can't help but notice that you have the ideal body figure for my muscle study. Are you adverse to the idea of posing for me individually?"


	2. Chapter 2

Session 2 Protein Scramble 

 

The thin layer of snow crunched under his boots when Will Graham ascended the steps to the front porch of the elegant house standing on the quiet Baltimore street at 9 a.m. sharp the following Saturday.

Will took off his glove, and reached out to ring the doorbell. The muffled sound of the bell echoed through the house, but there was no immediate response or sound of footsteps from inside the house. He double checked the address to the one on the door before he rang the doorbell again. No response. Will wondered if anyone is even home, he shifted his feet uncomfortably. Maybe it was just a prank after all...

His question was answered when the door opened, revealing the doctor wearing a pair of casual dark jeans and a cozy burgundy red sweater. 

Will swallowed, the doctor looked younger without his three-piece suit, and he looked nice, _really nice_.

"Good morning, Will." Upon seeing Will, the man opened the door wider with a welcoming smile. 

"Good morning, Dr. Lecter." Hannibal appeared quite pleased with Will's politeness.

"I told you that you can call me Hannibal, didn't I? Please, come in. You are right on time." Will visibly relaxed with Hannibal's approval. "May I take your coat?"

"Thank you," Will shrugged off his threadbare navy overcoat, and handed it to Hannibal obediently. "Hannibal."

Hannibal's grin widened, he led Will through the corridor to a spacious kitchen that resembled a designer showroom. 

"This is the most impressive kitchen I have ever seen." Will murmured. 

Spiralling down a dimly lit staircase, they reached the basement level, Hannibal opened a sliding door and invited Will in. The workshop was pitch black till the fluorescent lights were switched on, and Will gasped in astonishment. A floor-to-ceiling mahogany bookshelf covered the entire wall on Will's left. All kinds of art supplies, paints, canvas, together with an extensive plaster cast collection of heads, torsos and hands, filled the rest of the space with chaotic order. There were stacks of canvas everywhere, some were completed, some were half-finished, all leaning up against the empty walls, and some pieces of art hanging askew.

"May I?" With Hannibal's approval, Will studied them one by one. 

Among the drawings, Will found an extensive collection of anatomical drawings and medical illustrations, studies of human bodies, parts of human bodies, and internal organs, but it was a series of deer antlers sketches that caught Will's attention. His fingers lingered back and forth on the strokes like he was caressing it, the tips of his fingers stained black with charcoal.

"I was intrigued by the beauty of the arches." Hannibal traced his fingers behind Will's, and explained with a low voice.

The last pile closest to the wall was covered by a white cloth, as the cloth was lifted to reveal the paintings underneath, Will inhaled sharply in surprise. The array of paintings were extremely disturbing to look at, a narration of violent and death, brutalised human bodies mounted and displayed like artistic sculptures. The colours of the paintings were not vivid except the reds, Will felt like he could visualise the blood in them - the blood that was dripping out from the the edge of the canvas pooling around Will's feet... drowning him in a river of blood.

Will frowned in concentration as he was taking in the details. Hannibal, standing behind Will sharpening a pencil with a razor sharp scalpel, paused and approached Will with caution, his eyes observing Will's reaction with fascination. 

"Your art has a distinctive brutality." Will commented dreamily as his mind wandered. "Every brutal choice has elegance, grace."

"I'll take that as a compliment." Hannibal relaxed slightly and joked. 

He instructed Will to accompany him to the far end of the workshop, an empty space has been reserved, where several plain wooden boxes, a pedestal, and a comfortable looking lounge chair had been set up in front of a single chair and studio easel. An elegant oriental folding screen decorated with golden cherry blossoms on black wood was waiting in the corner.

"I have prepared a robe for your use." Hannibal gestured at the screen. Will undressed behind it quickly and reappeared in the lightweight silk robe that draped beautifully over his body. 

“How do you want me to pose?” Will prepared to loosen the ties around his waist as Hannibal placed a professional artist lamp and a compact heater next to the lounge chair.

"We will start with a ten minutes semi-reclining pose. Lie down on the chair please, so we can begin." Hannibal took the robe from Will, folded it neatly, and placed it on one top of the stack of wooden boxes. He proceeded to drape on the chair a soft flannel blanket in the shade of blood, he readjusted the position of it several time before he is satisfied with the arrangement of the folds. Will climbs on the chair slowly, cautious not to mess up with the cloth under him. "Now turn to the side, with your back facing me, straighten your legs a bit...Turn your head towards the light. That's it. _Good boy_." 

Will felt a jolt of excitement running down his spine, there was a kind of comfort in following orders from the doctor. 

He could feel Hannibal's gaze on him, even the two men were not facing each other. Aside from the random sounds of charcoal sketching on textured paper, there was no other sound in the room. Will let his mind flow, his eyelids fluttered as he fought against the urge to doze off. 

Out of the corner of his eyes, a majestic stag covered with pitch black feathers stamped its hoofs on the ground in anticipation...

...

 

The music seemed distant.

Quiet piano notes were floating in the air, they were steadily getting louder as Will's consciousness resurfaced. 

A soft blanket was draped over his stark naked body. Hannibal, however, was nowhere to be found. Will stood and slipped into the robe. He stretched his arms, the usual aches and pains caused by tutors demanding impractical poses were not present, instead he felt well-rested. 

Hurriedly Will changed back into his own clothes behind the screen, not forgetting to fold the robe and the blanket and put them neatly on the chair. Out of curiosity, Will took a peek at Hannibal's sketch. He always found it a bit hilarious looking at his own butt through other's eyes, but this time, he truly think the sketch was beautiful. Even the way how he had signed his full name on the bottom right hand corner was elegant. 

"Hello, Will." Hannibal silently appeared from behind, his voice startled Will and he jumped back with uncharacteristic nervousness. "Did you rest well?" 

Will shook his head and frowned in confusion. "What time is it?"

"Eleven." Will had been out for two hours, he stared at him in horror, but Hannibal just gestured him to go back up stairs with him.

"I am so terribly sorry! It was unprofessional. I'd give you back the money..." Will's voice trailed off as a whiff of delicious aromas from nearby had him salivating instantly.

On the dining table, two places had been set. Hannibal excused himself to the kitchen briefly, and returned with two steaming cups of freshly brewed coffee in hand. He set one down for Will, and the other at the head of the table for himself.

“There is no need to, you were lying completely still while I finished my drawing." Hannibal said simply as he offered a cup to Will. Will blushed and thanked him with extra special politeness. "But before you go, if you are not in hurry, perhaps we can share a meal together. Are You Hungry? "

Will nodded, but answered, " I don't want to cause you any inconvenience."

"I prefer to eat with company." The older man answered curtly and directed Will to sit down, he disappeared into the kitchen and reappeared with two beautifully plated dishes. "A little protein scramble to start the day. Some eggs, some sausage."

The smell alone made his mouth water, and his stomach growled in anticipation, he waited until Hannibal had seated himself, then he picked up his fork and pierced a piece of meat into his mouth. When the steaming food hit his tongue, he moaned in pleasure. 

"Mm, it's delicious - Thank you." Will took his time chewing and then swallowing the greasy, delectable bite. 

There was a curiously smooth and rich tangy taste to the crispy sausages, and the eggs were creamy soft, it was probably the fluffiest scrambled eggs Will had ever tasted. The man was not lying about his cooking skills. _He is a dom who will take good care of his sub,_ Will hopelessly tried to shut his mind off. 

"- My pleasure." Hannibal's maroon eyes watched his every expression and reactions, his faint smirk almost instantly transformed into a indulgent grin. 

They ate in silence for several minutes— which seemed like forever. When they both looked up at each other once again, — 

"You would probably never want to work with me again, but..." / "When would you like to schedule our next session?" 

They both laughed in unison, chuckling a little, Will felt a warmth spreading through him. 

...

"If you don't mind my asking," Will insisted to help with the dishes, and Hannibal let him. "what are you majoring in?" 

"Forensic science, final year." Will answered.

Hannibal raised his eyebrows in considerable astonishment, "What do you want to do after you've graduated?" 

Will paused and considered, "I am not sure yet, but I wanna work for the FBI." 

Hannibal was always curious how the FBI went about its business - This could be _interesting_.

_I would certainly feel safer if you were in the FBI… protecting my interests._ , Hannibal thought to himself.


	3. Chapter 3

Session 3 Red Eye

 

Will raised his eyebrows when Hannibal came up to the counter in the cafe he was working at. 

"You have not been stalking me, have you? Will joked. 

"I may have." Hannibal replied in all seriousness, and Will chuckled. 

Hannibal chose to sit at the corner, with his back to the window where he could observe every person in the space. There was something about the way the natural light filtered through and shone upon the figure of this shy boy, who was quietly busy preparing his coffee, among other orders. He crossed his legs and took out his pocket sketchbook. 

When there was no one else waiting in the line, Will took Hannibal's order to his table himself. 

"I thought you'd prepare your own coffee." He stayed standing next to Hannibal after putting down his paper cup. 

"I ran out of coffee beans this morning." Hannibal took a sip. "There is a very fine coffee roaster a block down from here."

The Red Eye Will prepared was in fact quite excellent, the drink had a citrusy acidity that Hannibal appreciated. 

Will stole a glance at the quick sketch in front of Hannibal, it was a rough sketch, but the side profile and the hair were unmistakably his, “Is that me you were drawing?”

Hannibal was about to answer when an energetic man ambled over to pat Will on the back, hard. 

"Will, darling, look who's here!" A white shaggy-looking dog was shoved into Will's chest, and Will laughed. 

"Hello, Buster." Will greeted his dog. "But why do you bring him to work? Have you fed him?" Will noticed he was being quite rude. "Hannibal, this is my friend Matthew, and my dog...Buster."

Will thought he saw a flicker of disappointment in Hannibal's eyes, his heart fluttered. Buster stood on his hind legs and sniffed the older man's fingers curiously, Will picked him up and scolded him endearingly. 

"I need to put him in the back...and..." Will found it hard to excuse himself from Hannibal. 

“No, it's perfectly fine, I have to leave as well,” Hannibal pocketed his notebook swiftly, and raised from his seat, taking the coffee. "I will see you in class tonight, Will."

...

It was a rather uneventful class, and Will was grateful for it, considering how much embarrassment he had put himself into in the past week. 

Hannibal requested three poses from him, all of them involved sitting with different postures on stacked up boxes, the ones least demanding. Will secretly wondered if Hannibal noticed his legs were already sore and his back was aching from his long shift at the cafe. 

As soon as the class ended, Hannibal offered his farewell to the class. The students relaxed and began packing their bags and chatting. By the time Will put on his robe, Hannibal was nowhere to be seen. He waited a little longer, but Hannibal did not return to the classroom. 

Will cursed internally for his own false expectation, he chewed his lower lip as he looked away from the door with a sad frown.

...

"So it was THE doctor who hired you for private session? I don't like him," Matthew said bluntly, he noticed the way Will had been tapping his foot and fidgeting around the entire evening, classic anxious behaviour of a sub in distress. "His eyes are creepy. It's like he's staring into my soul." 

Will shot him an unamused glance, he put down his slice of almost cold pizza absentmindedly. 

_It's like he's staring into my soul, but instead of being creeped out, I feel warm and fuzzy inside_ , Will sighed in his mind. 

Will hated his empathy disorder, but he trusted his own instinct about people, it was clear to him that Hannibal Lecter was lonely, he was just as lonely as Will was. He was so sure that Hannibal wanted to be his friend (or his dom), but maybe he was wrong.

...

If Hannibal had the capacity to be honest with himself, he would have admitted that he was surprised, and terribly disappointed that Will already had an intimate friend. Their friendship had just begun without ever touching, yet Hannibal already felt attuned to Will. There was something different about the twitchy man that Hannibal could not let go, or ignore. He was feeling very protective, and possessive over him. If Will was to be his friend (or his sub), he didn't want Will to have anything in his life that's not him. His possessiveness over Will was astonishing, and alarming.


	4. Chapter 4

Session 4 Huevos High Life

 

"Good boy." Hannibal Lecter's echoing voice whispered low in his ear, he could feel the doctor's stubble tickling the skin behind his neck.

Will woke up with a morning wood that did not subsided quickly.

_What is happening to me..._ Will buried his face into his pillow.

...

Will kept his face properly blank with a hint of his own brand of grumpiness when he arrived at Hannibal's residence and entered the studio again.

As if testing his theory based on his observations, Hannibal asked Will to kneel on the floor with his back facing him with hands resting palm down beside his thighs. Will hesitated, but complied, his gaze dropped to the approaching bare feet as Hannibal walked before him in silence. 

There was a long pause before Hannibal asked quietly, "Will, would you mind if I touch you?"

Will shook his head, and let out an almost inaudible whimper. His glasses were gently lifted off his face, and then a large, warm hand was in his hair, giving slow, light strokes. Hannibal ran his fingers through the neatly-combed hair, mussing his curls. Will closed his eyes, let himself relish in the feeling for a few moments. His head was guided further down without any force applied on his neck, until Will's spine curved slightly forward to a standard submissive posture.

"When was the last time you submitted to anyone?" It was an intimate voice, almost purring. 

“What is this that we are doing?" Will murmured.

"You know the answer to that, Will." answered Hannibal. His bone-chilling, dark and low voice sent mad shocks up and down Will's spine, Will could feel his muscles tighten in delight. 

"I don't feel so good." Will hated himself for showing his weakness in front of a dom who was not his dom, not yet, but what he was experiencing was exactly something he missed over all these years.

"That feeling will pass, allow it to wash over you, through you. Let me be your guide, Will." Hearing the words, Will's eyes widened. 

Hannibal went down on his knees before Will, looking at him with a fond expression. The line between subject and object, artist and model, public and private, dom and sub, him and Hannibal, they all blurred in Will's mind. 

"Do you have any Aspirin?"

...

Fresh orange juice was dripping into a glass steadily from a centrifugal juicer. Will leaned against the kitchen counter, watching the machine work absentmindedly. 

He eyed the food Hannibal was preparing. "You’re making eggs again?"

"Not just eggs. High Life eggs. A chef in Spain called Muro claims he invented it in the 19th century." Hannibal explained. 

Watching Hannibal cook for the first time was mesmerising. The sausage sizzled and crackled in its own pan, almost done. Hannibal threw an egg in the air, caught it on the edge of a knife, cracking it and holding it in place as the contents drool onto a slice of brioche with a hole already in a pan. He had a smug expression on his face that Will wanted to seal into his memory forever. 

_Yes, it may work._

Hannibal handed Will the glass of juice once it was fully filled.

"Maybe I shouldn't poke you like that, perhaps a less, uh, direct approach?" Hannibal took off his apron, he stood to his full height, looking down at Will's puppy blue eyes. "Please. Let me apologise for my behaviour in there."

"I felt...good...in there, I feel good about myself when I'm with you." The sweet tartness of the few sips of orange juice he consumed blossomed on Will's tongue, Will licked his lips. 

"It may work." Will whispered over the rim of the glass.

"The 'it' being?" Hannibal wanted to hear Will say it clearly.

Will lowered his eyes in submission. 

"Us."


	5. Chapter 5

Session 5 ~~Hannibal Lecture~~ Paris-Brest

 

When Will removed the silicone lid of the travel mug, aroma of freshly brewed wafted up his nostrils. 

The travel mug was tugged safely inside a cooler bag that Hannibal mysteriously left him at the cafe during his shift before the night lecture. A note, apparently written with some expensive stationary, told him to " _Enjoy your lecture._ " in the most pretentious and elegant way.

Forensic Psychiatry was a class that Will found interesting. The subject introduced students to the constructs of dynamic psychiatry, psychiatric treatment, and the nomenclature of mental disorders, consideration of expert testimony, and cross-examination in hospitalisation and criminal cases. The knowledge could be useful for his future career. 

If he had difficulties with the assignments, Hannibal would be would be more than happy to help him. 

Will knew that there was a guest lecturer today. Most of his classmates were here already, and he turned to look who was still missing as the guest lecturer entered the room with the course supervisor. When Will took the man in, his body froze, and his blue eyes widened. Nothing could have prepared him for the fact that Hannibal Lecter would be the one lecturing. 

He should have guessed, after all, he told him to _enjoy the lecture_. 

His eyes followed the doctor's every move, and he knew Hannibal noticed his presence in his class even he was not looking his way. 

After a brief introduction, the light in the hall was dim, and a slide was projected on a far wall with the title—

**_Madness and Crime._ **

"...The criminological view holds that mental illness and criminality are not strongly associated, if at all. The psychiatric view, on the contrary, holds that the relationship between mental illness, in particular psychosis, and violence was real and consistent..." 

It was not easy for Will to focus on what Hannibal was saying, but he managed to in the end. 

...

As soon as class is over, students start filing out of the lecture hall. Will stood up, grabbed his bag and rushed towards the lecturer, who was bidding his thanks and farewell to the faculty staff with courtesy.

"Dr. Lecter, may I ask you some questions about psychosis?" Will asked in all seriousness, but it was obvious that he was suppressing a grin on his face. 

"Yes, of course." Hannibal smirked as he turned off the projector. "But first, let me get my coat."

The guest lecturer’s room was dark as they entered it. Hannibal held the door open for Will to enter first, before closing and locking it behind him silently. 

He took hold of Will's wrists and held them against the door above his head with one hand, while his other hand reached behind his sub's neck and slowly brought him closer. 

"Did you enjoy the lecture?" Angling his head, Hannibal hovered his lips an inch over Will's, not quite touching.

"Yes, I did, thank you." It was Will who leaned forward and closed the distance. When they finally let go of each other, there was a strand of saliva between their parting tongue. Will looked up, Hannibal's long eyelashes quivered. "Matthew can feed Buster for me."

Will remembered bursting into laughter when he heard Hannibal asked about his 'partner' while cutting up oranges for the juice after their _drawing session_ almost three months ago. Knowing Matthew was in fact his flatmate and flatmate only, the look of relief on the doctor's face was purely comical. 

Hannibal looked at his watch. "It is an awkward time to have you for dinner, but I hope you will enjoy dessert."

One thing Will would never admit aloud was that he loved having dessert after every meal Hannibal cooked for him.

...

Hannibal passed the cork under his nose, sniffing the aroma of the sweet wine before pouring both him and Will a glass. He moved the glass gently back and forth under his nose and sniffs again, the chilled rose moscato smelled of ripe apricot, peach, nectarine, vanilla bean, and orange blossom. He raised the glass to his lips, took a sip, swished it around in his mouth and stared off into space with a satisfied grin. Will accepted the glass and took a large gulp, the sweet taste was refreshing. 

Hannibal took the plate of dessert out from the fridge, and set it down on the counter for the final touch. 

"A Paris–Brest is a French dessert, made of choux pastry and a praline flavoured cream. The pastry was created in 1910 to commemorate the Paris–Brest–Paris bicycle race begun in 1891. Its circular shape is representative of a wheel. It became popular with riders on the Paris–Brest cycle race, partly because of its energising high caloric value."

A layer of snow-like powered sugar was dusted on top of the golden pastry with measured precision. Hannibal cut out a bite size portion cleanly with a very sharp knife, and lifted the morsel for Will to taste. 

Will's blue eyes held Hannibal's gaze as he closed his mouth around the food Hannibal was holding out for him to eat, his tongue poked lightly at the fingers in a playful manner after taking the food. 

The idea of being hand-fed by a dom wasn't something appealing to Will until one day Hannibal held out a spoonful of tomato consomme for him to taste, he hesitated, but he made himself bend forward to taste the soup just to see Hannibal's reaction. The euphoric expression on his mom's face was captivating. 

The brown butter-hazelnut crust was crisp and buttery, a perfect counterpoint to the silky creamy filling. Will hummed with pleasure. 

Hannibal smiled indulgently, he licked his fingers clean before wrapping both of his arms around Will's waist from behind, and placed a feather light kiss on Will's cute ear. He brushed his nose to the skin on the back of Will's neck, as he inhaled his sub's scent, his nostrils flared like a predator scenting its prey. 

An artificial smell tickled his sensitive nose, disturbed, Hannibal couldn't help but wrinkled his nose. 

"Did you just smell me?" Will tensed and chuckled.

"Difficult to avoid. I really must introduce you to a finer after shave. That smells like something with a ship on the bottle." Underneath the artificial sweetness and the smell of Will's dog, Hannibal could still detect Will's faint natural scent, it was hard to describe but it was akin to a mix of pine, sweet grass and rain. It was fascinating. 

"Well, I keep getting it for Christmas." Will giggled, feeling ticklish as Hannibal peppered his neck and collarbone with kisses.

"Speaking of Christmas, do you have any plans?" 

...

Steam arose from the bathtub, making the air thick and hot. 

Will closed his eyes and sighed with contentment. This was perfect. His muscles had been aching badly in the recent weeks due to the pressure from pressing school works, his part-time and modelling sessions. Hannibal had picked up more workload at the psychiatry department at John Hopkins, and he seldom attended classes at the art school now. The annoying new tutor always asked him to remain still in the most uncomfortable poses. 

Relaxed, Will laid his head on the edge of the tub, his chocolate curls hanging over the edge. Hannibal kneeled behind him, and began to massage shampoo into his hair with his hands. When Will slipped and almost slide into the water, Hannibal's fingers tangling in his hair tightened. He pulled Will's head backward with gentle force until his neck was a long exposed line of flesh, his Adam's apple bobbed in his throat as Will opened his mouth and moaned silently. Hannibal took he chance, leaned down, and slipped his tongue into his mouth upside down. His sharp teeth nipped at Will's wet swollen lips, almost painful, but not quite. 

Will's mind grew fuzzy, he felt electricity running down his spine and straight to his groin. He opened his eyes, breathless and trembling. Hannibal cupped his face in his palm, kissing him on the nose softly. 

"You'll be the death of me," Hannibal purred, "My sweet Will."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh little ghost, you see the pain  
> But together we can make something beautiful.  
> So take my hand and perfectly,  
> We fill the gaps, you and me make three,  
> I was meant for you, and you for me.
> 
> Birdy, Strange Birds

Session 6 Mulled wine and Christmas Lamb Roast

 

On the day before Christmas Eve, the weather was unusually warm, 

Hannibal took Will and Buster (Matthew was off to somewhere in India during the Christmas break) for an outing in his car at the Gunpowder Falls State Park. Will had always wanted to go fly fishing at the snowy Gunpowder River. 

"Winter can be a very productive time for fishing. Small patterns are a great way to trick fish this time of year. Midge larvae this time of year can be found in submerged leaf piles..." Hannibal listened to Will intently during the drive, although it was as if Will was speaking to him in a different language. "While the lower river is stocked with rainbows each year, it still hosts a wild population of brown trout." 

"Truite au Bleu." Hannibal replied, Will gave him a confused head tilt. "Truite au Bleu - Trouts cooked so fresh its skin turns blue as it cooks, served with a hollandaise sauce on the side. That is what I will make for you, my dear Will."

"That is, if I can catch any." Will raised his eyebrows and grinned. Hannibal just shrugged and placed a kiss on the younger man's cold-reddened nose. 

It was very pleasant, Hannibal had to admit, sitting under the sun watching Will fish in the thigh deep water. Buster kept running hysterically around on the thin snow harassing Hannibal for treats, and Will giggled in happiness. The cold, though, was not something Hannibal appreciate too much. He was wearing a hilarious fur hat with earflaps that Will laughed wholeheartedly at. The doctor blushed a little, but did not answer directly where he got it from. 

They shared together the delicious lunch sandwiches that Hannibal prepared in the morning with crispy bacon, earthy mushrooms, and light paté. As they were eating in silence, watching the peaceful stream flowed quietly before them, Will felt a glowing warmth inside his chest. 

He had a curious feeling that Hannibal and him were conjoined, and no matter what happened to the two of them in future, nothing could separate them, because there was no chance they could survive alone without each other.

...

At the end of the day, Will did not catch any trout, but it didn't matter, because Hannibal had prepared a beautiful slow roast of lamb for dinner at home (together with many other curious looking side dishes). 

Will, wanting very much to contribute, volunteered to prepare mulled wine for Hannibal with his 'family recipe'. Hannibal looped his arm around Will's waist and watched Will cook with his chin resting on Will's shoulder. The entire house was filled with the aroma of citrus, sugar and spices from the warming spiced wine. Even Hannibal had to agree, Will's suggestion of adding clementines to the recipe was a wonderful idea. 

The flavourful meat of the lamb roast had been, of course, cooked to perfection, it was succulent, and so tender it falls apart with the touch of a fork. Hannibal and Will raised their steaming glasses of mulled wine and took a sip before they began their meal in unison. The physical and mental synchronicity that Hannibal and Will had were breathtaking, and disturbingly perfect. 

...

After settling a very tired Buster comfortably in the guest room - that had been converted to a dog's playroom filled with designer pet furnitures purchased by Hannibal- Hannibal asked Will to follow him down to the basement.

"Merry Christmas, Will."

Hannibal had cleared corner and set up a Fly-Tying station for Will in his workshop, it was an elegant, proper Fly-Tying desk, with hook tower and all, loaded with essential tools. 

Will beamed at Hannibal when he saw his gift. He grabbed the collar of Hannibal's dress shirt, and pulled him down for a crushing kiss that was a frenzy of tongue and teeth and lips. 

...

Will took Hannibal by the hand as they went upstairs together, still giggling, Will presented Hannibal's gift with an unsure look on his face. 

"Matthew suggested it to me, I think it suits your _weirdness_ well." 

Hannibal stroked his finger lovingly along the edge of the Walnut Cabinet Etherewave Theremins.

"The theremin is one of the oldest electronic instruments, and the only one known that you play without touching." Hannibal gestured at the antenna, "Moving your hands in the space around its antennas controls pitch and volume. Thank you, Will, this is perfect." Hannibal cradled Will's face between his hands. "We may as well compose together, would you like to try?"

A very subtle electric hum vibrated across the surface when fingertips reaching out to the antenna, creating an unsettling electric tone. Will, sitting at the foot of the bed, winced at the horrible sounds in the air. Hannibal adjusted the dials, and Will's hand drew an even-more-ugly tone out of the instrument, Will broke into a hysterical laugh. 

"Sounds like I'm killing it." There were tears at the corner of Will's eyes.

"Don't kill it." Hannibal grinned and sat behind him, straddling him. He slide his hands down Will's arms until he is cupping his hands in his. He guided his hands to the antenna, creating a more sustained note.

"A theremin is an instrument which can create exquisite music without ever needing to be touched. But it requires the rare gift of perfect pitch to play properly." Hannibal nuzzled his head on Will's shoulder, kissing his neck. His hands drifted from his, one moving along his thigh, the other over his stomach. 

"It's a very psychological instrument." Will lost focus on sustaining the softer, eerier notes playing between his fingers when Hannibal's touch became progressively distracting, his hand disappearing in a caress between his thighs.

With his fingers wrapped around Will's throat, Hannibal turned his head and pulled him into a passionate kiss. His arms circling Will's shoulders,  
drawing him closer. 

The eerie sound of the Theremin stopped entirely as they rolled onto their sides and climbed onto the bed. 

...

The weather turned bad on Christmas day, but Hannibal and Will didn't noticed. 

They spent most of their morning cuddling in bed, Hannibal spooned Will from behind, with his arm draped over his waist. 

Breakfast was simple, the two men shared the left-over roast meat with their dog. Will was about to finish the last bite of his sandwich when Hannibal's hand reached out to pull down the white button-up shirt that was hanging slightly loose on Will's frame. Angry bruises in red and purple shades were already forming randomly along the collarbones and the side of his neck. Hannibal stroked the blossoming patterns with feather-light fingertips, his eyelashes fluttered. 

Will started to unbutton his shirt slowly. "Yes, you can."

Hannibal didn't even have to ask with words anymore.

...

"I always find beauty in things that are deemed undesirable according to social norms," 

Hannibal mixed and tested the paint on the palette before applying the colour to the canvas in front of him. He repeated the process several times at the edge of Will's eyeball to get the exact shade of blue he wanted. "they are much more interesting, if you know how to look."

"You are weird." Will felt a sting on his fingers, he had been holding up his hand next to his face at an awkward angle for a while. "I must be weird too, by proxy." 

"I am much weirder than you can imagine...It is fine to be weird." The thin lips of the man curve slightly upwards, he habitually brushed back the few strands of loose hair fallen over his deep-set eyes, then tuck them behind his left ear. "The world is filled with personality deficients, you would be the exception, Will."

Hannibal glared at Will, trying his best to capture the angle of the stare he requested Will to maintain. 

"Let's Take a Break." Noticing that Will's hand was trembling slightly, he put his paint brush neatly down on the table, took Will's hand in his palms and started massaging his fingers. 

"There is something that you want to tell me." Hannibal observed Will's face, and stated as-a-matter-of-factly.

"I received a call from the FBI." Will said, recalling the voice on the phone.

...

The voice on the phone, Agent Jack Crawford, was authoritative, and loud. 

"In your application letter, you said you wanted to work for us in the violent criminal apprehension program." Crawford asked.

"Yes, sir." 

"There might be an opportunity." Will clutched the phone tighter in his hand. "I'm assuming that you're familiar with The Chesapeake Ripper..."

...

"He asked me to send him a psychological profile of The Chesapeake Ripper." Will chewed the inside of his cheek, watching Hannibal from the corner of his eye. 

"Yes. The Ripper's very hot right now." Hannibal's expression was incomprehensible. "Do you have any theories on the killer?"

Will frowned, a little habit of his when he tried to focus and organise his thoughts. 'The Ripper killed his last two victims in six days. There'll be at least one more body and then nothing for months. They say he's a true sociopath."

"What do you say?" Hannibal licked his lips.

"I say they don't know what else to label him." Will hissed curtly. "He has some of the characteristics of what they call a sociopath. No remorse or guilt at all. He'll have no history of trouble with the law. He'll be hard to catch."

Hannibal tightened his hold on Will's hand and pulled him close for a peck on the lips. "All you have to do is trust your instinct, Will. I have confidence in you that you will be the best profiler in the FBI."

"That is if I can get into the FBI in the first place." Will grimaced.

Hannibal placed another kiss on Will's forehead. 

"Like I said, I have utter confidence in you, my dear Will."

**Author's Note:**

> "A strange bird is a person who is by all means a huge weirdo" (ugh).
> 
> I'm on Tumblr too :D [@vulcanplomeeksoup](http://vulcanplomeeksoup.tumblr.com) Come chat with me about Hannibal !


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